The supernova in me explodes and implodes. Repeating, over and over again. I’m breaking inside and shattering on the outside quietly.
I run… I’m running so fast so nobody can see the trail of blood I’m leaving behind. I’m covering my tracks as I go.
Everything makes sense, and then suddenly it doesn’t. It never has, and it’ll never work out. I’m trapped, alone in my invisibility. I feel at home here, nestled up in a ball. Staring into the void while time slips by.
Up and down, spinning around and around. Why am I ok and then I’m not? It happens so fast. I’m staring down the Borderline barrel and I still wonder if this is some sick and twisted dream. It isn’t.
This is my reality. The reality I can never quite paint a clear picture for those who don’t understand.
It’s been this way for as long as I can remember. It’s been so aggressive lately, but I don’t show it on the outside. It’s this inner battle happening inside of my soul. I pretend like the world is fine; that it keeps on spinning and I smile through the confusion and pain.
I want to believe in the sunshine that pours on my back. I want to revel in the love that tries to break through my heart of stone. It comes and goes, without warning. I want it all, and then I want nothing.
The line has been drawn in the sand, but the monsters in my head trespass over and around it anyway. They have no remorse for the boundaries I attempt to set for myself. Instead, they give me reasons to push all those boundaries aside. They set me on fire and throw away the extinguisher.
There’s no going back; I’m trapped in everything I feel and I can’t properly heal.
Do you understand what I’m saying? Am I simply speaking into the atmosphere, waiting for a whisper of hope? There is no hope, the monsters steal every shred of it and convince me I did this to myself. I did this to myself. The monsters are living in me, therefore I am them; they are me.
They laugh at how I feel. I’m always wrong. I’m responsible for their destruction to my psyche.
These monsters will continue to shatter my spirit, relentlessly expending the courage and hope I’m trying so hard to build up. The foundation is broken. Healing was never a complete option. Every week I try to heal during therapy, the hope is written on the wall in invisible ink, only to flash before my eyes for a moment, then fade away again. I’m pushed back under the surface and I go back to my world of darkness. A single candle is lit. I can’t see far ahead; only enough to see the pool of light surrounding myself. Each direction is scary, but I trek ahead anyway, unsure of what’s next.
I will wander until the end of time, but there’s no permanent escape from this while awake, while breathing. I don’t want to surrender to the other side of whatever this life is. My monsters try to convince me to slip away there, but I resist just enough to see another day.
You will find little broken pieces of me- bits of sorrow, anger, paranoia, confusion, remorse, mania, fear and frustration. Sometimes a shard of happiness, love, excitement and hope will shine from where they lay. But anywhere I go, these sharp edges will follow back to my core.
Tread ever so carefully.
The only blood that stains these pieces is my own.